I've Got This Friend
by xLaceMeWithWindx
Summary: Kagome is an exchange program graduate student in the United States. She finds herself struggling with reminders of home and just what exactly it means to be who she was. Interesting relationships find her questioning whether she will return to her motherland at the end of her academic year. AU, M Rating.
1. Americanization

**Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the InuYasha brand. I do not claim to have whole or partial ownership of the empire, and I will be forever indebted to the incredible Rumiko Takahashi—InuYasha is her brain baby, and the series has granted me with hours of entertainment.**

Author's Note: This story is incredibly AU. I can imagine that parts of this will not settle well with some readers, and I accept that. I, of course, am always willing to explain my reasoning behind the decisions that I make.

I imagine Kagome to be in her mid-twenties in this story. This story will be rated Mature. Please do not continue to read this if you are uncomfortable with citrus. She will not be as innocent as she is portrayed to be in the series, and I can imagine that my portrayal of her will raise many hackles. I can also imagine that the way I attest for her blue eyes will also raise some concern with some readers. I am not thoughtless, and I am well aware of the fact that my story will not be canon. Please do not become disconcerted by this—give it a chance. :)

I will gauge the reaction to this introduction before I decide whether or not to continue with this story.

Thanks for reading!

P.S. This chapter opens with a little lime. If you are uncomfortable with that, skip the first four paragraphs and begin reading at the fifth. :)

**I've Got This Friend**

**Chapter One: Americanization**

She bit her lip and struggled to suppress a throaty gasp. Thin fingers explored their way deftly down her body, sneaking up her short, denim skirt. Teeth dug harder into abused lips, and the coppery taste of blood drew a blanch across her flushed face. The young woman's chest heaved, pert nipples straining through three layers of material and giving away the level of arousal she was feeling at the ministration of the well-learned fingers probing into damp darkness. Her legs quaked, still unused to the sensation of the tiny bundle of nerves being prodded and poked.

A deep grunt built in her throat. The guttural noise fought its way through her tightening throat as fingers swirled expertly through her sex. "Oh my God," she groaned, heat building through her core, spreading from her veins and into her capillaries. The heat of the blood caused her body to flush and sweat. Tension built through her core, and she jerked uncontrollably as her release washed over her.

Sweaty thighs clamped together as she rode the wave of pleasure that was crashing through her body. Her legs quaked as she pinched the nerve of bundles one last time. She gasped before a contented sigh escaped her lips. Thick, black eyelashes fluttered against rosy cheeks before pealing back to reveal glazed cerulean eyes. She pulled her thighs apart, and her moist hand snaked its way from her soaked panties.

She brought the hand to rest by her head, inhaling the heady aroma. It was spicy, but cleaner than it was when she had been involved with a boy at her university back home. She squeezed her thighs together one last time before rolling out of the bed. She desperately needed a shower—a hard day of class followed by an hour long conversation with her best friend and eventually an intense session of self-delivered pleasure left her feeling dirty, albeit also intensely satisfied.

Slowly, she drifted toward the tiny bathroom near the back of her studio apartment. She paused long enough to glance out of the large bay window of the apartment—it had been the one feature that had left her unable to turn the quarters down, despite the slightly more expensive price than other apartments she had viewed. City streets were bathed in the red light of a dying sunset, and she was briefly reminded of her home city. She felt a familiar tightness in her chest before stepping away from the window. It would not do for her to sadden herself with thoughts of home; it would be months before she could return.

The exchange program for the university was, in itself, not expensive. The tuition for her university at home covered for the cost of the tuition at the university here. She had been permitted to stay on the campus in a dorm room on the university's campus, but she balked at the idea of sharing a room with a young woman she did not know. She was deeply private and chose instead to work in one of the libraries on the campus in order to afford an off campus apartment. Her salary sufficiently covered the cost of her small studio apartment, a bus pass for the city's public transit system as well as a steady supply of the cheap noodles the Americans like to pass off as ramen. In a good week, she could afford the vegetables, meat and spices to make the noodles much more manageable to eat.

She stepped into the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror, thinly veiled curiosity flashed through her eyes at her reflection. She had been in the United States for three months, and even she was surprised by how quickly she had acclimated to her new environment. Her once waist-length hair had been thinned and cut to shoulder-length, making it less heavy and much more manageable. Mascara and kohl eyeliner circled her almond shaped eyes, and her once pale skin had picked up a few shades of color, leaving her closer to a bronzed tan than she had ever been in her life.

Kagome closed her eyes as she pulled off the cottony v-neck tee she had been wearing. A memory she had attempted to suppress surfaced in her mind as she stripped out of the ribbed tank she had worn that day. Stiff fingers struggled with the clasps on her bra as her eyelids tightened further together. A soft growl rumbled through her chest as the memory rippled to the very surface of her consciousness, and she was forced to remember.

Kagome's eyes were wide as she walked from one end of the pedestrian walkway to the other. While the buildings were somewhat similar to the modern monstrosities she had seen in her home city of Tokyo, the amount of land they stretched over was entirely unfamiliar. She also couldn't hide her fascination at the amount of greenery around her. Growing up on the shrine grounds, she was accustomed to the feeling of nature. She spent the entirety of her formative years gaining knowledge and experience under the shade of the _Goshinboku_. However, she was not accustomed to seeing so much greenery in the middle of a city. She knew Tokyo was much larger in size than Knoxville, Tennessee, but it was still difficult for her to conceptualize the difference.

As she wandered into the amphitheater between the library and another assortment of buildings, she heard a harsh whisper behind her. "Oh, _fan-fucking-tastic_, another wide-eyed chink girl to get in my fucking way."

Kagome paled at the gruff tone in the male's voice. She turned slightly at the rude words. Two thick young men sporting khaki shorts and polo shirts in colors that offended her eyes was the sight the met her curious glance. The pushed past her roughly. "Get the fuck out of my way, slant eyes," the other male hissed. Her fingers tightened reflexively as he continued, "Cute Hello Kitty purse, you fucking idiot."

Her mouth gaped open in surprise as the young men she stared at in wonder receded from her line of vision. How could they be so thoughtlessly rude? Did they suspect that she didn't speak English? Or that she, at the very least, wouldn't be able to understand the pejorative words they had spoken to her? Kagome's grandfather was an American GI from World War II—her mother had ensured that she spoke impeccable English. Her grandfather had expected nothing less than the best of her before he passed away.

At thirteen, he had carefully explained all of the pejorative terms she might expect to hear if she ever visited her relatives in the States.

"_Now, darlin'," he started, his southern drawl thick, and his rheumy blue eyes sparkling with life and tenacity that she had never before seen from the man, "if you ever hear someone call you one of those nasty names, stand up for yourself. Those terms will never lose their hateful meaning to those who use them if they do not understand their impact."_

"_Yes, Pappaw," she muttered as his cerulean eyes sank closed, and a deep sign escaped from his slightly parted lips._

"_That's my girl."_

Kagome pulled herself from the memories as her denim skirt pooled around her ankles. Her stomach clenched at the thought of her grandfather. He and her _jii-chan_ were as opposite as two people could be, but she was aware that both would have been ashamed of her not standing up for herself that day. Her fingers tightened once more at the thought of the young men and the change in her that they had been the catalyst to.

She had returned to her apartment that same evening and threw out the, now seemingly, childish Hello Kitty purse. It had been a gift from her mother, but she would not allow another person to make fun of her due to ridiculous stereotypes. She had cut her hair that evening, botching it badly enough to warrant a visit to an inexpensive hair salon the next day. It was situated in a strip mall, and she found herself compelled to spend the last of the money she had brought with her from home on new, less modest clothing. While none of the clothing could be construed as being slutty, it was a change of pace for the young woman. She would no longer dress in the childish _anime_ t-shirts she had brought from home.

Cerulean eyes connected to her reflection in the mirror. She had been angry that day, and the anger swelled within her chest once more, unfurling like an ugly beast that only came out to play at twilight. She found herself hoping that the heaven of her grandfather's Christian faith did not actually exist as she stared into the only reminder she had of him. Her eyes, a reflection of his own, slipped closed as a shudder passed through her body. He had taught her to not hang on to her anger, that all it caused were poisonous feelings. Another idea struck her, and she bit her lip and flushed at the thought that her unknown relatives could stare down at her from above as she touched herself.

Her eyes popped open. "No," she thought as she dropped her panties. "Pappaw must be reincarnated by now. He was too good of a man to not be."

With that one last, satisfying thought, Kagome slipped into the shower. Cold water caressed her body, and she sank against the tiled wall of the small enclosure. Her body ached, tired from the long day and the pleasure she had allowed herself to feel. Her fingertips glowed softly as she messaged soap over her body, allowing the static power to relax her stiff muscles.

"If anything," she whispered aloud, her voice echoing slightly through the small bathroom, "my _miko_ powers are enough proof that _Shinto_ is the one true religion." She found herself hoping that the _kami_ had taken pity on her poor grandfather and his misguided Christian faith—he truly was a spectacular man.


	2. Reminders From Home

**Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the InuYasha brand. I do not claim to have whole or partial ownership of the empire, and I will be forever indebted to the incredible Rumiko Takahashi—InuYasha is her brain baby, and the series has granted me with hours of entertainment.**

**Author's Note: This didn't receive a whole heck of a lot of feedback, but I did have one reader favorite the story and added to his/her alerts. So, this chapter is for EchoedShadows because I wouldn't have written it otherwise. (^_^)**

**I've Got This Friend**

**Chapter Two: Reminders of Home**

"Sango-chan," Kagome chirped happily at the sight of her best friend's smiling face. She waved at the computer screen perched on her lap. It was three o'clock in the morning in Knoxville, and she was in the common area of the library. There were very few students studying; mid-terms had just passed and finals were still a month and a half off. Kagome pressed pink ear buds into her ears as her friend waved enthusiastically back.

"Kagome! How are you doing?" Sango exclaimed, happy to finally be able to physically see her friend rather than just hear her voice over a crackling, long distance call.

Kagome stared into the chocolatey depths of her oldest friend's eyes. A genuine smile tugged at her lips for the first time in a few days. "The same as I was when I spoke to you over the telephone a few days ago," she replied, reveling in the way her native Japanese sounded foreign to her ears. She had only been in America for a few months, surely she wasn't losing touch with her motherland that easily.

"Oh, so you're terribly lonely and hot for the stories I tell you about my adventures in the sack with my lecherous boyfriend?"

A giggle escaped Kagome's pink-tinted lips as a red headed Japanese boy entered the library common room. She watched as he paused momentarily, staring at her. He shook his head, the movement was nearly imperceptible to her, before walking further into the common area and choosing a table near her. Kagome stared after the boy briefly. She had seem around campus a few times, always wearing a t-shirt with a clever saying scrawled across the front in _kanji_, and he always smiled. She always lowered her head slightly before walking on—she wasn't there to make friends.

She shook her head and lowered her voice before continuing, "Of course, Sango! How is the _houshi-sama_?"

She watched as her friend laughed uproariously. Sango and Kagome had met Miroku as undergraduate students at the University of Tokyo. They had been in an introductory Communications course, and the _sensei_ had found it appropriate to have the class deliver introductory speeches on themselves. The two girls had already identified the violet eyed young man as a lecher, as he had groped Sango on their first day in the course and asked her to bear his son. They were thus surprised to discover that he had been training as a man of the cloth. Buddha had apparently come to him in a vision and instructed his son along a different path.

"Yes," Kagome had whispered to Sango while Miroku went on to explain his heritage, "I very much doubt that Buddha would want a _houshi_ who could not keep his wondering hands to himself and devoted to prayer."

Another young man near the front, with long braided hair and ocher colored eyes whipped his head around to stare at the giggling girls. He glared at Kagome intensely, and a sneer flitted over his face. She found herself wondering if he could have hear he—she shook her head. There was absolutely no way in any of the Hells that he had heard her whispered, derogatory comment about their classmate.

After four longs years, multiple bumps over the head and heated one night stands, Sango and Miroku decided to make it official. Kagome remembered laughing over her _bento_ box as Sango explained the story to her a few days after their graduation. The girls sat beneath the shade of the _Goshinboku, _their legs tucked neatly beneath them as they shared a congratulatory lunch.

"Gome, it was so romantic," Sango said, a faraway look in her chocolate brown eyes. Kagome snorted, she seriously doubted that the lecherous young man had a romantic bone in his body; but she waited for her friend to continue regardless. A few short moments passed before Kagome cleared her throat.

"Wha—?" Sango asked as Kagome clicked her chopsticks in front of her friend's eyes.

"You completely spaced out!" Sango had the humility to blush and look down at her _bento_ box in mock shame. Kagome nudged her and threw her a good natured smile before saying, "C'mon, Sango-chan, please tell me how the _houshi-sama_ swept you off of your feet! Give me all of the dirty details—I'll need something to give me inspiration while I'm letting out my frustrations later!"

The girls giggled to each other momentarily. Sango placed her _bento_ box to the side and smoother her pink and green sundress across her thighs. Kagome's stomach clenched slightly, and her pulse quickened at the roguish look on her best friend's face. She gently placed her own _bento_ box to the side, not really noticing or caring when Buyo approached and slurped happily at her forgotten leftovers.

"He took me to dinner—nothing really fancy, but he know how much I love _oden_," Sango began happily. Kagome leaned into the scratchy embrace of the Goshinboku and listened attentively to her best friend, noticing as a slight flush started to creep into Sango's skin. "I was surprised, actually. It was just this little hole in the wall place, something Myoga's and the other. He just walked in there like he owned the place."

Sango giggled for a moment as the pretty flush continued to spread and deepen across her cheeks. "We sat near the back, and he ordered for me," she held up a hand before the protest could leave Kagome's lips. "I know, I normally hate that kind of stuff, but he ordered my favorite _oden_ variety. I didn't even realize he ever paid that much attention to me."

"Anyway," Sango continued, starting to squirm a little, "we're sitting there, in a contented silence, happily eating away at our _oden_, and suddenly he drops his hand to my thigh. He's handsy, you know?" Sango waited patiently for Kagome to agree with her and continued once her friend nodded her head fervently. "I didn't think anything of it—that's just how the pervert is."

"But, oh God, Kagome," Sango breathed out, the faraway look taking over her features once more. Kagome clicked the chopsticks impatiently before Sango's eyes once more. "Ugh, sorry... Anyway, he starts snaking his hand up my skirt, and I place my hand over top his. To passersby, it probably just looked like he was eating his meal pleasantly—he never looked away from his dinner! I, of course, had to have been a comical sight to say the very least. I could feel my face flushing as he grabbed my hand led it gently up my skirt."

"Sango!" Kagome squealed, a faint flush showing on her cheeks, "you didn't!"

"God, yes I did! His fingers are magic. Just the cool touch of that ridiculous rosary he wears around his wrist was enough to start my legs trembling. Holy shit, Kagome, within a few minutes, he had me so wet I was afraid there would be a puddle in the seat by the time I stood."

"But, Sango! You were in public," Kagome exclaimed as her heart beat increased incrementally. She squeezed her thighs together quickly, attempting to alleviate the ache that was pooling in her core.

Her friend sighed happily. "I know. That's what made it so exciting; it's so expressly forbidden. Kagome, I swear to that Buddha of his, my body has never quaked quite so hard as it did then. I had to bite down on my chopsticks just to keep from crying out right there in the restaurant. I almost bit one of them in half—I was drenched by the time I stood up, I could barely walk, my legs were like jelly."

Kagome sighed. Sango had all of the luck. Kagome had been dating and sleeping with a nice boy named Hojo since their first year of college. He was a very "wham-bam, thank you, mam," kind of guy, always finishing quickly and efficiently. He would first thrust, then grunt, followed by thrust, thrust, grunt, thrust, thrust, thrust, moan, thrust, guttural groan, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, "aaaaaah," limpid thrust and "_Domo arigato_, Kagome-chan!" before rolling over and going to sleep. Kagome didn't just enjoy hearing her friend's foray in the art of lovemaking, she depended on it.

After all, she was a young woman, and she had grown up in a country where the television programming would be considered pornography if it were broadcast in any other sovereign state. She had needs, and she knew she wasn't getting that white-hot, eyes screwed shut, teeth grinding together feeling that other girls her age were getting. She depended on Sango's stories, like some kind of sick hentai, to get her through her miserable sexual relationship with Hojo.

"Wait!" Kagome cried out once she pulled herself out of her reverie. "That is in no way romantic! You said Miroku was totally romantic—him fingering you under the table at a cheap restaurant is most decidedly NOT romantic! That's as romantic as the one time Hojo went down on me and came up rolling his tongue around like a dog eating peanut butter!"

Both girls paused. Cerulean eyes met deep brown eyes and mirth shone in each set. Sango snorted first, choking on her laughter as it bubbled from her throat. Kagome soon began to giggle as both girls remembered the emphatic storytelling of that particular and horrifying event. "_Domo arigato_, Kagome-chan," Sango imitated Hojo's voice while blinking owlishly, "but no thank you. I do not want you to have to experience the unpleasantness that I just did. I would actually appreciate it if you didn't go down on me."

Kagome groaned and drew a shaky hand down the length of her face. "My God, Sagno, I washed myself six times a day after that. I've never felt so disgusting in my life."

"Eh, don't worry about it, Kagome! Hojo was a dud in the sack. Besides, I hear that the Yura slut that he's with now is totally a dom and has made him a sub. I saw him hobbling around at graduation—maybe her strap-on is too big for him!"

Kagome bit back a screech as her friend laughed uproariously at her expense. She crossed her arms across her chest and huffed. Sango wiped a long tear drop from her cheek as she continued to chortle. "I'm sorry, Gome, but you should have seen your face—it was priceless."

A few seconds passed in uncomfortable silence before Sango nudged her friend in the ribs. "Hey, do you want me to get to Miroku being totally romantic or what?"

Kagome sighed and briefly closed her eyes. They popped back open moments later, and she sank further into the Goshinboku's embrace. "Of course, please amaze me with the _houshi-sama's_ prowess as a romantic."

Sango proceeded to spin a tale of hot, sticky, arousing filth. They had returned to Sango's apartment just for Miroku to push her against the wall, pull her panties to the side and enter her from behind. "Gome, he fucked me into submission. I mean, seriously, against the wall, on the floor, in the shower, over the kitchen table—" Kagome made a mental note to never accept a dinner invitation from her friend again. "I came so many times I lost count. I had no idea Miroku had that kind of stamina."

Sango sighed dreamily. "And it was later that night. We were wrapped up in each other on my futon, and he says, _"Sango-sama, you are the only girl I ever want to marathon fuck around an apartment."_ He is so dreamy."

The chopsticks cluttered to the ground before Kagome. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth had dropped open slightly. Sango turned toward her friend, curious at her silence. She nudged Kagome in the side with her elbow, and the sharp pain caused Kagome to look up and snap her mouth shut. She noticed the question in her friend's eyes, and Kagome burst into a fit of furious giggles. After a few seconds, she bit back the laughter.

"Sango, you have got to be the only person I've ever met to consider that to be romantic!"

Kagome was pulled from her reverie when she heard a sharp screech. Her eyes focused on the vision of her best friend waving her hand frantically in front of her computer screen. "Oi, Kagome! What in all the hells are you thinking about? You've been spaced out for a good five minutes. Seriously, I thought I was never going to get your attention!"

Kagome laughed shortly. "Sorry, Sango-chan! I was just thinking about when you told me that you and Miroku were dating. It brings a tear of joy to my eyes every time!"

Sango huffed and shook an accusing finger at her best friend. "It's not my fault that you couldn't recognize romance if it bit you right in the butt! Miroku is incredibly romantic!"

"Romantic?" Kagome scoffed. Her relationship with Hojo may have been terrible sexually, but he had been incredibly romantic in his own way. He would often times pop in at the shrine to visit her, sometimes bringing her chocolates or teddies. He even once took her on a ferris wheel and gave her a red rose at the apex. "Puh-lease! You just can't imagine your life without Miroku there to fuck you senseless!"

Sango bowed her head slightly, a non-committal grunt escaping her lips. Kagome placed the computer on the desk before her and re-situated herself in the chair. It had been a long five hours, and it would be another long three in the library. She found herself bored many nights in the library; but it was a good job, so she rarely complained. Kagome was just settling back into her chair when she noticed a shocked look coming over her friend's face.

Sango imitated taking ear buds out and unplugging them from the computer, and Kagome found herself following along to the suggestion out of curiosity. "Kagome," Sango said breathily, "do you know that Japanese boy behind you?"

Kagome shook her head but turned to face the boy regardless. She was surprised to see surprised green eyes staring at her and her computer with blatant curiosity. "Oh my God!" Sango screeched, "Shippo-chan!"


End file.
